


Moments Of Light

by sassyclassy_ass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Girl Power, Jonsaexchange, Pining, This Is Primarily A Daensa Story But There Are Moments Of Both, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyclassy_ass/pseuds/sassyclassy_ass
Summary: Sansa had not realised how lonely she truly was until she began her friendship with Daenerys. She had not realised how much she wanted a friend.Or the one where Sansa and Daenerys discover something more





	

She snuck into the library, finally releasing that breath she hadn’t known she was holding. It had been close to a year since she had become Jon’s wife and queen but that all so familiar fear still wrapped itself tightly around her heart. Kingslanding was full of vipers, all of them hungry and waiting to strike. _No_ , she thought to herself dully, it didn’t matter how many years she spent in Kingslanding. She would always feel uneasy and scared. She was a woman, a queen and yet she still felt like a little girl. She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to remain strong and push her emotions back. _You love Jon, more than anything,_ she reminded herself and it was true, she did. She just wasn’t sure if she would have accepted his proposal and a crown if she had had the chance.

She heard a sound and quickly turned around, sharp words on the tip of her tongue. _I already told them, I wish to be alone._ The words quickly died at the sight of who it was, gone before they could truly form.

“Your grace?” Her voice was but a squeak and yet it still echoed in the silent room, making the both of them wince. She was a wolf, a queen now, despite what all may have believed and yet here she was acting like a mouse. She straightened herself, trying to forget that she had every reason to be fearful. Daenerys, after all, was the true queen, a powerful woman, one that had three dragons.  None of that seemed to truly root in her mind when she stared the Dragon Queen. The other woman was tiny.

“Queen Sansa.” The queen’s voice stumbled over the words, her voice sounding as uncertain as she felt but she could not help the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Gratefulness spread through her like Greatfire itself. To few she was a queen, to some she was a lady but to most, she was a whore. The Queen’s small display of kindness and respect was huge. They should have separated after that, split ways. Despite sharing one husband, they had not been in the other’s presence since the wedding. The Queen stuck to her rulership and dragons and she stuck to her shadows. It would be wise to walk away, quietly remembering that one moment of kindness but she was not like to forget kindness. Septa Mordane had taught her to pay kindness with kindness. It had not worked in the past and it was not like to work now but Sansa was always willing to try.

“Did you have a pleasant day Your Grace?” She asked, her voice strong and assured, more assured than she truly felt. The Dragon Queen froze, obviously not expecting the question.  A strange mix of regret and curiosity filled her stomach. Curious of the answer but regretful that she had even opened her mouth.

“I was looking for something to read. What of you?” she finally answered after assessing her for a moment. The queen’s violet eyes were just as wide and curious as hers. They did not look like the eyes of her dragons or godly. They just looked young. She shook her head, breaking herself away from the strange thoughts.

“Same as you,” she responded quickly. “I wanted a book to read and some peace.” The last statement was meant to make the other woman laugh but it fell flat, sounding painfully close to the truth. The queen’s expression shifted, there for a moment and then gone, too fast for her to catch sight of. She told herself, pushing away the tiny little voice that whispered: _sympathy, sympathy was what you saw._ Foolishness, she reminded herself.

“Have you found anything good?” The queen asked, moving closer to her. She stiffened at the sudden action but the queen stopped before she could get any closer.

“Not yet. There’s one book that I always go to. It’s a book of stories and songs.” She internally frowned, she was talking too much. The Dragon Queen didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes lit up at the mention of it, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Songs and stories? It sounds wonderful.” She nodded, smiling, not expecting the sudden show of delight.

“They are. There are so many wonderful and lovely stories in there. I think you might enjoy it.” She told her, excitement bursting and growing. In truth, she could not imagine the Mother of Dragons and Queen of Westeros enjoying a silly book of stories but the woman before her seemed less queen and more girl. “Let me get it for you.” She moved towards the bookshelves, darting around the table. She was so used to this place that it was a quick and easy task to find the book. She got it and turned around. The other woman was closer than before. Surprise filled her, she was quick and quiet. Jon and Daenerys were more alike than first thought.

She passed it silently to the queen. The other woman taking it from her slowly, her eyes drinking in the cover, hungry and delighted all at once. An uncomfortable twinge happened in her stomach. She loved that particular book dearly but she had never looked at it with such hunger. _She needs this,_ she thought with sudden clarity. She didn’t know why but she did know that the other woman needed it.

“The cover, it’s beautiful,” she said, slowly looking up at her. She nodded and smiled, unable to say or do anything else. The queen smiled back and she nearly gasped. The queen had perhaps the loveliest smile she had ever seen. It was strikingly like Jon’s own smile. It was like seeing the sun piercing through and banishing all the clouds, warm and bright and lovely.

She opened her mouth to say something but her words were thankfully forgotten and stopped by a loud and sudden crash and splutter. Both she and the queen turned towards the source of the sound, their eyes pinning on the interloper. She blinked twice, it was the maester. Jon’s friend. She hurried to his side. The man still sprawled on the ground.

“Maester Tarly? Are you alright?” She asked, offering him a hand up to which he gratefully accepted.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine my queen—“ His words died and faded, his eyes wide and pinned on someone behind her. “I mean, my queens,” he said quickly, placing emphasis on the last word. She raised an eyebrow at his strange response and his flushed face but turned to see Daenerys still there.

“Maester Tarly,” The queen greeted, her voice slipping back into that smooth and regal tone. Sam only squeaked and looked down at his feet. His cheeks (if even possible) flushing an even brighter red. “Thank you, for your help Queen Sansa.”

“It’s fine.” She told him and smiled before turning to address the queen.  “Perhaps, if you want, you can come back and tell me how you found the stories.” There was a strange expression on the queen’s face but then it was gone, too quick for her to decipher. The other woman nodded and mumbled what she assumed to be a goodbye before leaving, slipping past her and the maester. She stared down, not sure what to do or say. Had she offended the other woman somehow?

She and Sam were still for a moment, waiting for the other woman to be truly gone before they finally parted. She hadn’t even realised that she had still been holding onto the maester’s arm.

“Are you well Your grace?” She nodded, shooting a small smile, still upset about the queen’s departure.  Sam didn’t seem to mind and instead shot her a shy smile. She felt a sudden rush of appreciation for the maester. If it were anyone else, they would have commented on her lackluster smile, searching for some way to use that against her. Maester Tarly wasn’t like that, though, he was Jon’s friend and sometimes, she believed, hers too.  They fell into a conversation about books and she soon forgot the queen’s strange departure and expression.

*

She slumped against Jon, tired and exhausted from their love making. She threw an arm over her face, unable to contain the stupid grin plastered to her face. Her body was sore but she could feel Jon’s seed against her legs, slowly drying. _This time. This time I will have a babe_ , she told herself, believing every word.

“Do you think we’ll have a babe this time?” She turned to face him, removing her arm away. Too many the king was a gloomy man, made of ice itself and colder than Winter. She might have once believed that too, she is certain that she once had, but knowing him now, loving him, has taught her to see beyond the mask. Now all she sees is the kind and loving man, one that was brave and strong and gentle. Just as her father had once wished.

“I don’t know my love. I hope so. I want to give you as many babes as possible,” she declared. Jon’s face softened and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lulled by his gentleness. They fell into a comfortable and sleepy silence. She could feel herself falling asleep but Jon moved, rousing her from her slumber.

“Sam told me that he saw you and Dany together.” Confusion settled over her. It took a moment for her to realise what he was saying and then annoyance. She should have known that the maester would have told Jon. They were brothers as Jon liked to remind her. That didn’t quell the annoyance.

“Yes, and? Are we not allowed to talk about anything without you?” Jon flushed, diverting his eyes but she only felt a smug and sharp satisfaction. _Serves him right. Sticking his nose into this._

“No,” he protested loudly but she only pinned him with a look and he wilted under her hard stare. She sighed loudly, slumping back against him. She was acting ridiculous. It was only an offhand statement, a nosy one but nothing that meant any _harm._

“Yes, we were. I like her. She’s kind.” Jon moved beneath her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Yes, she is.” Jon didn’t say anything else, apparently appeased. She wished that she was the same but now that he had mentioned the other Queen, she could not get her out of her mind. What was that expression? She knew it. It was something that she recognised, dancing just out of edge. She turned to face Jon but he had already drifted to sleep. She sighed but smiled. He looked so peaceful asleep and despite her earlier annoyance, she found herself brushing a strand of hair out of his face.She pressed one last kiss to his side and then relaxed against him.

Hours later, after finally drifting to sleep, she realised what that expression was with sudden clarity. It was something so very familiar and known to her that she half-wondered how she hadn’t realised at first. Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, was lonely.

*

She tried to focus on her embroidery but it was difficult too. She could not quiet her thoughts. It was not truly her place to interfere. She was certain that the queen would not appreciate it but she couldn’t help but feel guilt. She loved Jon, more than anything. That did not lesser the sting or fact that she was only his second wife and that she had, by all technicalities, stolen Jon from the queen. The other woman never showed it but perhaps, she would have been less lonely if not for her presence. She groaned loudly, pushing her embroidery to the side. For the umpteenth time, she felt a rush of gratefulness for the queen’s absence. It gave her time to time to organise her thoughts.

There was an abrupt knock at the door and she stiffened. It wasn’t late but she rarely ever got visitors at this time and Jon was gone.  She pushed herself up, brushing her embroidery aside. There wasn’t a second knock so it couldn’t have been to urgent, she thought to herself as she unlocked the door but froze at who it was.  It was the Dragon Queen, looking flustered, something that she had not thought possible for a woman who had birthed three dragons. Despite the strangeness of the visit, she could not help but find it endearing. The queen, for no better words, looked, well, adorable.

“Your grace?” She asked, not quite able to muster any other words. The queen, if possible, looked even more flustered. There was no trace of the Mother of Dragon’s here.

“Thank you for the book. I enjoyed it,” she finally says. “May I come in?” She does not know what to say so she only steps aside, allowing the other woman to slip in. She does, walking further into her room and examining her surroundings. It is strange having the dragon queen in her room. The place feels immediately smaller, as if the mere presence of the other woman was big enough to fill an entire room.  The other woman turned to face her, her gaze expectant. That woke her up and she internally shook her head, moving towards the queen.

“Please sit down.” The dragon queen took the nearest seat and sat down delicately, perching on it as if it were her throne. She took the seat opposite the woman and sat down carefully. “Is there need of me Your Grace?” The queen shook her head and waved a hand.

“Please, none of the titles while we’re alone. We’re both queens and besides, it gets confusing. You may call me Daenerys” She smiled awkwardly, the idea sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. Her courtesies had never mentioned anything such as this. It didn’t feel right to call the other woman by her first name. The only thing that connected them was their husband. The use of a first name felt too intimate and close for the reality of their relationship. She didn’t say any of that, though, she only smiled and nodded.

“If that is so then you must call Sansa,” she finally said. It was not as if she could fight about this with the queen and it seemed rude not to offer her name in exchange. The queen relaxes back against the chair and smiles at her.

“Thank you, Sansa.” If having the queen in her room wasn’t already strange, then having her say her name was even stranger. It surprised her to find that she liked it. The queen said her name as if it mattered. It made her shiver.

“It’s fine, so, you enjoyed the book?” She said, quickly changing the topic. The queen (she should really call her Daenerys now) smiled and nodded.

“Yes, they were wonderful. I didn’t know many of them but they were all beautiful and lovely.” She looked up, surprised and puzzled. The book was filled with the most popular and loved stories and songs. Surely the queen would have known them all? The other woman must have seen her expression and began to explain. “Viserys told me different stories. He was so young that he didn’t remember or know many of the songs or stories from Westeros. I grew up hearing songs and stories from the Free Cities and stories about my ancestors.” Sympathy and pity pooled into her stomach at the sight of the queen. It was well-known that the Dragon queen had lived a hard life but it was so easily forgotten. The other woman looked sad and tired at that point. She wanted to see her smile.

“What was your favourite story?” She asked, desperate to cheer the other girl up. The queen ~~-~~ -  _no ~~–~~_ _Daenerys,_ smiled softly.

“I always loved to hear stories of Aegon the Conqueror. When I was a little girl I used to dream of flying back home.” Daenerys voice is soft and wistful, her smile infinitely sad. It makes something inside her ache.

“And now you have. You’re home,” she says finally. The queen’s smile turns brittle, her whole-body stiffening. She watches in confusion, unsure of what she has just done. The moment passes though and she softens back into something more warm and human, not quite girl but not quite queen or mother either. Daenerys is seamlessly within and out of her grasp.

“Yes, you could say that, home.” Her words are distant and far away. She studies the other woman but her eyes do not seem to see her. They are focused on some unknown and distant memory. This she knows but she does not disturb her. Sometimes memories are easier and less painful. Sometimes it is better to forget the tangible and real, even if it is for just a moment. Daenerys eventually shakes her head and smiles. She smiles back in return and leans back.  “Tell me of your home.” She flinches at the demand. It would be so easy to say no. The word is at the tip of her tongue. Winterfell is so painful to think of. From all reports, it is thriving again and Bran is said to be a just ruler but it still hurts. She swallows down the word, even though it is painful and hard to swallow down. She hears a tinge of desperation in the queen’s voice and she has never been one to let someone hurt, so she tells her.

She speaks of her home. She speaks of how it is always warm because hot water is circulated through the walls, of the summer snows and the glass gardens. She tells her of the crypts and the games she and her siblings used to play together and the weirwood. She talks of Old Nan and all the stories she used to say. She talks of the people and how they are hard and strong but most of all loyal. She tells her of the Stark words, her voice growing and sinking, shifting with every word and every tale. Daenerys drinks it all up, her eyes are wide and in awe and her mouth open. She talks so much that she doesn’t realise that hours have passed.

“Oh,” she starts as she realises how late it is now. “It’s so late. You must be exhausted now,” she breaks off. Daenerys eyes widen, just as surprised as she is.

“It seems it is. I’m sorry to have kept you up for so long.” She shakes her head, smiling. It surprises her how much she enjoyed talking about Winterfell. She and Jon are both of the North that most of the time that they don’t _need_ to talk of their home. They already know and when they do need to speak than at times it is too awkward and too painful. 

“You didn’t take up my time. I enjoyed talking to you. Perhaps, we could do it again.” Dany’s face breaks into a wide smile as she pushes herself up and she finds that she cannot breathe. Her smile makes her feel breathless.

“I would like that.” They both walk to the door and the queen opens it but then pauses. She is biting her lips and looks uncertain but then an expression of determination comes onto her face. She watches the other woman’s expression flit and change, bewildered and confused.

“My home, the one that I wanted to fly to, it was a house, one with a red door and a lemon tree. I think you might have liked it.” And with that, the other woman is gone, quickly swallowed up by the shadows and dark. She does not have the chance to say anything else but warmth spreads through her body at this small truth. She decides as she heads back to her chair and sitting on it heavily, Daenerys has never looked so beautiful as when she is sharing a truth.

*

She and Daenerys fall into an easy and quick friendship. They do not seek the other all the time but she will sometimes drag the queen to the library, talking of some book and Daenerys will sometimes drag her out from the castle. It is a friendship that she hadn’t realised that she had wanted so much, let alone needed. She has not had such a friendship, not like, not since she was a girl and that was years ago.

Most people seemed unsure of what to do with this new development. The only person that didn’t seem to care was Jon. When she had asked him about it, he had only shrugged and pulled her into his lap.

“She’s a kind person and I’ve always though the two of you would get along.” That had been that with Jon and she had felt another swell of affection and love for her husband. Jon was not everyone though and most people had quite a bit to say about this new friendship.

The people at court don’t seem to know what to do with this new development. The court had been split into sides. Both sides had gossiped about the other queen. Daenerys was a foreign madwoman, her father and Cersei reborn and she was a whore. Now, though, now that they are friends, the court has risen into a frenzy, unsure of what to say and do next. She finds it endlessly entertaining and Daenerys apparently feels the same.

“You shouldn’t laugh,” she reprimands the other woman as Lady Caterina hurries away, blushing and embarrassed. Dany shrugs and leans against her. She tries her best not to notice how warm and soft Daenerys feels.

“You found it funny too,” Dany points out, her voice sly. She rolls her eyes but her lips completely against her own volition flicker up. Dany turns to look at her just as they do and lets out a cry of victory. Looking far too smug for her own good.

“No, I didn’t,” she protests. It is a lie of course; Lady Catrina’s face had slowly turned red at the sight of the both of them together. Sansa was certain that she had wanted to say some subtle jape about either one of them. Lady Caterina just like most was quick to switch allegiance.

“Then why were you smiling?” She rolled her eyes. Dany was grinning at her now, her eyes knowing and certain.

“You must have imagined it,” she said haughtily, adopting the same tone she had used when she was talking to Arya or Bran, _or well,_ truly anyone. The other girl snickered and leaned back against her.

“I don’t believe it would be possible to imagine a smile as lovely as yours. Memory alone would not be able to capture all its beauty.” Her breath hitched. Daenerys had this annoying ~~wonderful~~ habit of making her feel breathless. She would smile or say a word or just look at her and she would immediately melt. Her breath gone and escaped. It was an awful habit that she could gladly do without.

“You must have lost all sense if you believe that to be true,” she joked but the joke falls flat. Dany turned to look at her, her gaze serious.

“I don’t think I have ever spoken as much sense as I do now.” Her mouth was open, moving silently, a poor imitation of speech. Daenerys gave her no chance to respond though and turned away from her. “Jon was telling me that you had some ideas on how to bring forth more money.” She nodded, grasping onto something that she knew and understood.

“Yes, I have some ideas for it.” She shook herself of all the thoughts and feelings that had arisen in her just a moment ago, but when she went to bed, later that night. It was Dany she dreamed of. Dany and her kisses.

*

She does not know how Dany was able to do it. When she had first arrived at Kingslanding, she had quickly decided that she hated the beach. What she had imagined it to be and what it truly was, were two very different things. Sand got into her under things and stuck to the soles of her feet, getting into her shoes. Her experiences with the beach had been _far_ from exemplary. Which is why she finds it so surprising that she is on one. Daenerys, she decides, is impossible to say no to.

“Are you happy now?” She demands, sitting down carefully beside Dany. Dany only smiles at her, sprawled before her, her dress ridden up. She hates how her eyes flicker to the other woman’s legs. _It is no sin if I just look_ , she tells herself. Dany doesn’t seem to notice her stare.

“Ecstatic if you must know,” she replies, rolling towards her. She allows Dany to take her hand. She does scowl though and turns her face away. “Oh, don’t be like that Sansa. Look, isn’t it beautiful?” She peeks at the view and reluctantly agrees. It is beautiful, the sea is calm and incredibly blue. The sun shining upon them, even the sand looks golden. It is all visually pleasing which is why she has always preferred to look at it from a distance. Nothing to ruin that view.

“It looks lovely,” she finally says, placing emphasis on the word looks.

“I’m sure it feels lovely as well.” She shoots her a look of confusion and opens her mouth to respond but Dany interrupts her. “Let’s go into the ocean. It’ll be wonderful. I could even show you one of the games I used to play when I was a child.” There is something strange and heated in her words.  Something that makes fire unspool in the pit of her stomach. Daenerys has never seemed more Targaryen than now.

“Daenerys, you know we can’t. We aren’t children anymore but queens. If someone were to see—“

“I’m tired of being a queen. Can’t we be children, just for a moment, let us be girls.” There is something desperate and needy in Daenerys voice and without truly meaning too, she nods. Dany smiles at her gratefully and her response seems so much easier now.

“Fine,” she tells her. Daenerys expression changes again, shifting into something that she sees in the shadows and dark of her room. Something heavy and heated and familiar falls upon the both of them, hanging between them, heavy and delicate and suffocating. Dany leans forward and then pauses but leans forward again, pressing a kiss just beside her lips. She gasps, a small sound but is frozen. _Move! Move now and kiss her!_ Her mind screams at her but she is frozen. Dany finally moves away. She whimpers, desperate and needy. She hopes that it is swallowed by the sounds of the sea.

“Come, let us play in the sea.”

They play in the sea for hours. Dany tells her about stories of mermaids and for a moment she allows herself to fall into the belief that they are both mermaids and that the sea is theirs. For a moment, she allows herself to believe that they kissed.

*

Jon rests a hand on her still empty stomach. No child has taken root yet but she tells herself that they still have time.

“What’s wrong love?” She stirs from her thoughts at the sound of his voice. There’s a great deal wrong and a number of things that she wants to say. She is still without child; Jon is forced to spend most of his evenings away from her because of meetings and she dreams of Daenerys Targaryen almost every night. She says none of those things, though.

“Why do you not couple with Dany?” Jon stills beneath her and she pushes herself up to see him better. For a moment, all she sees is guilt and shame but it is gone, only to disappear. Fear fills her. Has she got it wrong? Do they couple? “Have you?” He frantically shakes his head.

“No!” He quickly shouts, his voice louder than what it should be but she hears the truth in his words. She relaxes for a moment and sighs. She should leave it but it is impossible to do so.

“Then, why don’t you?” She pushes. Jon scowls, obviously frustrated that she hasn’t dropped it. She’s angry and upset that she hasn’t dropped it as well but she can’t, not now, not when she has seen that expression.

“Why are you asking me this? I don’t love her, not as I do you.” She shakes her head, pushing away from him. She knows this. That isn’t the question that she was asking but Jon refuses to look at her.

“I know that-“

“Then why?” He demands but she only shakes her head. She does not know why. She doesn’t know why at all.

“She is your wife,” she argues, her anger and frustration and annoyance bubbling up. Jon looks just as frustrated as she does.

“Oh, and what must you be?”

“Your second wife.” They both still at her words. It is a truth that they both have tried their best to avoid but it is the truth nevertheless. It is Daenerys that deserves to have her husband. Daenerys that deserves it all. Daenerys Targaryen is no one’s Elia Martell but she cannot help but feel like Lyanna Stark.

“You are not Rheagar Targaryen,” she says slowly.

“I have never believed myself to be him.” Jon’s voice is hard and cold. If anyone else were to hear that voice or see that expression. They would shiver; they would look away; they would have feared but she has loved this man for too long, known him for even longer to do as such and she cups his face with the both of her hands, brushing a thumb against his cheek. Jon’s eyes close and he relaxes beneath her touch. They both do.

“Go to your wife. I have never asked anything of you but I ask you this. Go to your wife.” Jon does not move for a moment and she fears that he will not listen but he finally nods and pulls her closer, pressing a gentle and loving kiss against her lips. She returns it immediately, allowing herself to be lulled into peace by the feel of him. They finally break away.

“I love you,” he says finally, pressing one last kiss to her head. She nods in return.

“I love you too.” He leaves then, looking at her once more and she allows herself to collapse into the bed. When she begins to weep, she cannot say who for.

*

“Sansa!” She stiffens, immediately recognising the voice as Daenerys but it is too late now so she slowly turns to face the other woman. Dany looks flustered and annoyed but more than that, she looks confused. Guilt just it always does at the sight of Dany now, pools in her stomach. It has been a week since the beachside and Jon but she has ignored her ever since. Dany’s pace speeds up until she is right in front of her.

“Your grace,” she says slowly, her voice cold and distant. Hurt clouds Daenerys eyes and then it is gone.

“Your grace?” She asks, her voice hurt and injured but she shakes her head, ridding her mind of any thoughts. That expression of stubbornness that had always made her exasperated and joyful at once, finds its way to Dany’s face. “I have need of you.” She only shakes her head, pulling away from Dany, ignoring how her insides tear at Dany’s expression.

“I have a busy day with-“ She starts but Dany interrupts her, shaking her head,

“No, you don’t. I asked Jon and he said that around this time all your meetings were finished.” A spike of anger, vicious and hot pierced her heart. _Traitorous man,_ a spiteful voice snapped. Daenerys seeing her expression quickly continues. “Please, I miss you and I do truly have need of you.” She slumps, finding herself weakening in the way she always does to Dany’s plea.

“Fine,” she snaps, giving in. Daenerys relaxes at the word, reaching out for her hand but thankfully she stops before she can take it. Sansa is grateful, she does not know what she would have done if Dany had touched her ~~(it is a lie. She knows exactly what she would have done).~~

“I thought that we could go for a ride. I find that it always calms me to do as such.” She did not enjoy riding but she could not help but agree with Dany. When she had been confused or angry; when she had been lost, it had been riding that had given her some peace. It was not peace that she wanted, though. It was ice that she needed at this moment and an iron will. There was no place for peace or comfort at this moment.

“No, I wish to go to the weirwood,” she responded. Just as she was ill at ease around the dragons, Dany was the same while in the weirwood. Just as she expected, the other woman frowned. She relaxed, expecting her to say no but Dany only nodded.

“Alright, let’s go to the weirwood instead,” she said slowly, her face stubborn and set. She sighed, she should have known Dany wouldn’t have been so quick to give in.

They both walked, stuck at the very centre of an awkwardness, one that showed no sign of abating or giving in. They do not say a word, both, it seems, unsure of what to say. Dany opens her mouth a couple of times but eventually closes it and shakes her head. It is relief (and one day perhaps, she will admit, disappointment too) that she feels, heavy and cloying. Relief because she does not know what to say. None of her thoughts seem appropriate. _I want you and I am angry because I want you,_ is the one thought that seems to stay for a long period of time, abating and rising, a presence in her mind that will not leave, demanding her attention and demanding answers. It is a need that she must acknowledge or answer. She cannot do either so she walks in silence. Her eyes pinned to the ground.

They eventually reach the weirwood and she breathes in deeply. The Southern air is nothing like the North but in this holy place, she can at least pretend. She walks towards the Heart Tree and sits carefully beneath it. Daenerys settles beside her, curious and weary of this place. She has to stop herself from smiling. There is a strange power in this place, one that many people dislike. For them, it is terrifying and dark but for her, it is the only place that she feels safe nowadays.  Men rise and fall but the weirwood thrives on. It is this knowledge that gives her peace.

“What was it that you needed from me?” She asks, drawing strength from this place. Daenerys is staring her and her stare is a physical living thing. It makes her shiver.

“I have missed you, is that not enough?” Dany’s words do as they have always done. They worm themselves into her heart, into her mind, into every part of her being and they spread warmth.

“And I you but I have been busy.” One is the truth and the other a lie and she sees the moment when Dany realises which is which.

“Then why?” Her voice is miserable but she refuses to allow herself to be pulled in again.

“Was Jon good to you?” Dany stiffens, her gaze weary but she refuses to back down. There are times when speaking is easier than hearing. This is not one of those times.

“He was dutiful,” Dany finally speaks. “Duty is not what I want, though.” She shakes her head.

“I shall have to change that.” She ignores the sudden spark of hope in her eyes. “I will tell Jon to stop being so wooden.” And she ignores how that hope soon dies. There is a hard knot in her throat but she swallows it down.

“You cannot command something like this,” Dany tells her, her voice hollow.

“No, you can’t but Jon desires you.” Dany’s eyes flick up to her own, surprised. She didn’t know.

“Many men have wanted me,” is all Dany says, her smile sad _. What of women? Have they wanted you too? Have they wanted you as I do?_

“Do you not want Jon?” She praises all the gods for the calmness and stillness in her voice. It does not break, not as she does inside.

“It doesn’t seem as if my wants and desires have ever mattered, not then and not now.” Her breath freezes within her until she feels like winter itself.

“What you want has always mattered to me,” she says and it is true. She wants Dany to be happy but she cannot have this. She cannot have her. It is not allowed.

“Does it? Sansa, I want you and yet that seems so impossible.” Dany’s voice breaks and something inside her breaks. She does not know who moves first, all she knows is that Dany’s lips are suddenly upon hers. She wraps her arms around Dany’s waist, pulling her closer. Trying her best to be as close to her as possible. She wants more, she wants them to be one. Let us be one.

They stay like that kissing, parting for breath, only to join back together, desperate for another kiss. Air has lost its significance. It does not matter when she can kiss Daenerys. She is breathing in the other woman and their surroundings, their duties, everything fades into nothing. It all matters naught when she has this woman before her.

They finally do break apart. Their bodies screaming for air even though their minds still want the other. It would be so easy now, to fall into some kind of guilt, to walk away or pretend but she only presses her forehead Dany’s own, closing her eyes and allowing herself to live.

*

“I want Dany in our bed.” Jon shoots up, only staring at her. There is a glimpse of something heated and dark and hot before it disappears, only to be replaced with guilt.

“Sansa, no, don’t do this for me.” She finally does laugh, shaking her head at him. Jon’s stare is cautious and uncertain. There is more to it though, she sees it. He wants Dany as well, perhaps, as much as she does.

“No, you wonderful and silly man, _I_ want Dany in _our_ bed and I think you do too.” Jon’s breathing is laboured and his eyes so dark that they are nearly black. It makes something inside her break, spilling heat and liquid flames all through her body.

“You do?” His voice is still cautious but there is more to it. There is the man. She nods, unable to say any other words. He tangles his fingers in her hair and pulling her in for a hard and deep kiss. His movements are more frenzied and wild, more beast than man. She thinks, with such exultation, _I have broken him._ His kisses are messy and wild, his thrusts uncontrolled and hard. She welcomes it all, opening herself completely to him. That night, she does not dream of Jon or Daenerys. She dreams of them both.

*

It is surprisingly easy to convince Dany into their bed. The other woman falls into it with such desperation and abundance that she wonders if she wanted it as desperately as she did.

Daenerys opens to her first, opening up to her, just as she had done beneath the weirwood. It takes her some time to accept Jon’s touch but she eventually does so. She half-thinks, as she watches Jon’s and Dany’s half wild moves, one that follows a savage and animalistic dance as old as the gods themselves, that she has never seen anything so beautiful as this. _Was this what they did when I was gone?_ The thought quickly disappears as Daenerys pulls her in for a long and deep kiss. Her whole body responds to the kiss. When she breaks away she catches sight of Jon’s half-lidded stare. There is lust there but there is also a question. _How often?_ She only shakes her head and presses a kiss to his own lips. Breathless and heated. It is gentle and soft but gentleness is soon forgotten.

Their bodies fall into some strange motion, one that shifts from familiar to the unknown, frenzied and wild and wanton. It old and wild; it is strange and shifting; it is a prayer to the gods themselves and she gives all of herself to it.

*

Hours later, after their strange dance, she wakes up to find the side where Dany lay beside her, empty. She turns, suddenly fearful that she has pushed someone loved and dear to her, away but her eyes find Dany quickly enough. She sits at the foot of the bed, curled up and curving over, under the weight of some unknown burden. She crawls up to the other woman, settling behind her. There is a small shift of movement and Dany leans against her, before she can truly think it, she wraps her arms around Dany, resting her head on her shoulder.

She does not say anything, Dany will speak when she is ready and she does.

“I used to spend my nights dreaming of the House with the red door,” she confesses. “I never thought that I would be,” Dany’s voice trails, her words lost and her voice broken by a small sob. She presses a kiss to the nape of Dany’s neck, tightening her embrace. In truth, she does not understand, not yet but she will. They have time. They all do, she tells herself as she feels the sudden solid press of Jon’s chest and his arms around them, gentle and solid.


End file.
